that was a dumb comparison—but the feeling was the same.
He touched her shoulder but she pulled away.
‘Um, no,’ she said, and she straightened and met his gaze full on. ‘Thanks, Ben,’ she said softly. ‘But I’m on my own now.’
‘You’re not on your own.’
‘This was a fairly dramatic time out,’ she said. ‘But it was just that. Time out. Now we both have stuff we need to face.’ She shook herself then, and Smash ’em Mary took over. He saw the set of her chin, the flash of determination, the armour rebuilding. ‘What I’m facing is nothing compared to you, but Jake will be okay. I’m sure of it.’
He had no room to respond.
In any other situation he would have...
Would have what? He didn’t know.
For suddenly he was there again, in Afghanistan, watching a bloodied Jake being loaded onto the stretcher, knowing he couldn’t go with the ambulance, knowing Jake’s fate was out of his hands.
Loving brought gut-wrenching pain.
When he was fourteen years old his mother had suicided. That day was etched into his mind so deeply he could never get rid of it.
Pain.
And here was this woman, sitting beside him, hurting herself. He’d forgotten his pain in her body. He’d used her.
He could love her.
Yeah, and expose him—and her—to more of the same? If he did...if he hurt her...
He hadn’t been able to stop his mother’s suicide. The emotional responsibility was too great.
Where was this going? He didn’t have a clue. He only knew that he withdrew his hand from her shoulder, and when she inched slightly away he didn’t stop her.
It was better to withdraw now. Kinder for both of them. He had relationships back in the US, of course he did, but the women he dated were strong, independent, never needy. They used him as an accessory and that was the way he liked it.
He never wanted a woman to need him.
‘We’re heading to Paihia,’ the voice of the chopper pilot told them through their headphones. ‘From there we’ll have people help you, check you medically, find you somewhere to go.’
Mary nodded, a brisk little nod that told him more than anything else that she had herself contained again. She wasn’t as strong as she made out, though, he thought. Strong, independent woman? Not so much.
It didn’t matter, they were moving on.
It was what they both needed to do.
* * *
Paihia. A massive army clearing tent. People with clipboards, emergency personnel everywhere, reminding them both that they were bit-part players in a very big drama.
‘Ben’s hurt,’ Mary managed, as a woman wearing medic insignia on her uniform met them off the chopper. ‘I’m a nurse. He had a dislocated knee that I managed to put back in but it needs checking for possible fractures. He also had a bang on the head. I’ve pulled the cut together with steri-strips but it probably needs stitches.’
‘We’ll take it from here,’ the medic said. ‘And you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Can you come this way, sir? Would you like a wheelchair?’
‘I don’t need help,’ he growled. ‘I need to find my brother.’
‘Your brother is?’
‘Jake Logan. One of the yachties.’
‘You’re part of the round-the-world challenge?’ Her face cleared. ‘Thank God for that. They’ve lost so many, the organisers are frantic.’
That was a statement to make him feel better. Not.
‘Jake...’ he managed.
‘The organisers have evacuated all survivors to Auckland,’ she said. ‘I don’t have names.’ She hesitated. ‘We’re sending a chopper with a couple of patients needing surgery in about ten minutes. If you let me do a fast check on your leg and head first, I can get you on that chopper.’
He turned and Mary was watching, still with that grave, contained face. The face that said she was moving on.
‘Go, Ben,’ she said. ‘And good luck.’
‘Where can I find you?’
‘Sir...’ the woman said.
The chopper was waiting.
‘I need an address,’ he told Mary. ‘Now!’
‘Email me if you like. I’m MaryHammond400 at xmail dot com.’
‘MaryHammond400?’
‘There’s so many of us I got desperate.’
‘There’s only one of you.’
She smiled. ‘It’s nice of you to say so but there are millions of Marys in the world. Good luck with everything, Ben. Email me to let me know Jake’s safe.’
‘I will. And, Mary—’
‘Just go.’
‘Give me the quilt,’ he told her, and she blinked, and he thought bringing the quilt into the equation, a touch of practicality, threw her.
‘You want it for a keepsake? You can’t have it.’
‘I’ll have it restored for Barbara and send it back to you,’ he told her. ‘And I don’t need keepsakes. Thank you, Mary 400. Smash ’em Mary. Mary in a million. I don’t need keepsakes because I’ll remember these last few days forever.’
* * *
She watched the chopper until it was out of sight. She hugged Heinz. She felt...weird.
She should feel gutted, she told herself. She felt like the man of her dreams was flying out of her life forever.
Only he wasn’t. She even managed a wry smile. He’d been a dream, she decided, a break from the nightmare of the past. She was glad she’d made love with him. Abandoning herself in his body, she’d felt as if she’d shed a skin.
Was she now Mary 401?
‘What can we do for you, Miss Hammond?’ Another official with a clipboard was approaching, bustling and businesslike. ‘Your American friends who own the island are frantic. We’ve fielded half a dozen calls. Would you like to ring and reassure them?’
‘I’ll do that,’ she said, still feeling
